


The Lazarus Kon

by wisia



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim returns Kon to life through the use of the Lazarus Pits. [Updated on chapter 2]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the Pit

**Author's Note:**

> Damnit. I was going to go to sleep, but freaking idea hit me. So, here's a mad crazed Kon. Because I have this alternate universe in my head where Tim puts Kon's body in the Lazarus pits, and boom! Crazy Kon that's possessive and...really, this is just a drabble.

 

"You shouldn't have brought me back to life."

Fingers gripped his hip hard, working bruises into the flesh even through the protective fabric. And Tim could only shudder, gazing upward at Kon. Kon's eyes were glazed, clouded over with a sick craze on blue.

"I wanted to," Tim whispered. He wanted,  _needed_  Kon to be alive. More than he needed to breathe or wanted to live. Kon was everything. And the fingers dug in harder. He watched fascinated as Kon's eyes heated up, a glowing red gathering in the irises.

"For what?" Kon demanded to know, voice dipping into a growl. "To make me crazy?"

"No!" Tim vehemently denied it. His hands came up to curl partially on Kon's arms as if to soothe. "Never."

"You dumped me in the pit -- the fucking pit!"

Kon was snarling now, and Tim was amazed he still wasn't being burned into a crisp. Tim couldn't breathe. He didn't know. He couldn't think. What was he doing? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus.

"Don't close your eyes! Look at me," and TIm's eyes snapped back open with a painful gasp. A bit more and Kon would have fractured his hips. He looked into Kon's eyes. Really. Truly.

"I--," Tim choked out. "I need you.  _Only you_."

Kon was expressionless. Tim's heart clenched tightly. He admitted it, and his hands fell away from Kon's arms, suddenly weak and useless.  _What did he do?_  And Kon, Kon was still expressionless.

Then, "You want me? Of course, you do."

The pressure on Tim's hips faded as Kon removed them. His eyes were still red. He petted Tim on the head, fingers running through the strands of hair. Tim couldn't help but leaned into it.

" _You're mine_."


	2. Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like adding something to this verse since it's been a while. Kind of an realization on TIm's part on what he did to Kon. Sort of.

“You’re mine,” Kon said roughly. Said it clear and loud so that Tim knew. But even so, Tim didn’t know. He didn’t comprehend just how much Kon had changed. How much the pit affected Kon and turned everything intense a thousand fold.

                He was on patrol. Cowl on and armored. Ready to defend against those eyes that followed him. Because Tim knew something was there. Watching him. Delighting over his every move, and it scared him. But he kept calm. Allowed no hint of that fear onto his face. It was only when Tim swung around the corner of a building then he knew.

                A weight slammed into him full bodily, trapped him to the wall. It was only the mouth that fell on his that Tim realized he knew the taste and shape of those lips.

                “Kon,” he breathed.

                “Tim,” Kon said in return, and his eyes were hard, still clouded over with that sick craze on blue.

                “Why are you here?” Tim asked and allowed himself to relax.

                “Because I want you,” Kon said simply. As if that was all the answer needed.

                “I’m on patrol,” Tim said, almost in disbelief.

                “I know,” Kon said, and his hand on Tim’s hip went tight enough to bruise. “But you’re mine, and I can smell them on you.”

                “What?”

                Kon smiled, and it was twisted. Made wrong by Tim’s hands because he put Kon in those dark green waters.

                “I want to show them you’re mine.”

                And he kissed Tim then and there. Tim gasped into it. Loved it because he was Kon’s. Was his in every way that matter. Tim could barely think as Kon ripped his cowl from his face. Just fell into that kiss, drowning in the taste of it. In the very physical reminder that Kon was here and alive.

                Then, Kon was dragging his pants down, scrunched them around his thighs.

                “Kon!” Tim said. Horrified. Because he was dimly still aware they were out in the open even if under the cover of night.

                “Shh!” Kon said and bit Tim’s bottom lip in warning. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

                “Yeah,” Tim said as Kon wrapped a hand around his cock.

                “Then, let me show it,” Kon said and his TTK dug deep. Spread across every part of Tim it could reach. It ravaged his skin, scored lines of burning fires into each section. Left purple and green bruises in their wake.

                Tim arched into it. Arched into Kon’s hands and his words.

                “Please,” Tim begged, and Kon obliged. Left heat in each touch of his fingers, a brand in every caress. Stroked Tim firmly.

                “Yeah,” Kon said and kissed him hard. “I want you to come right here. Let everyone see that you are mine.”


	3. Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, you can all give yourself a pat on the back and thank thestalkerhermit. You guys convinced me with Lazarus!Kon and thestalkerhermit's prompt made me want to write it. It's a verse, I guess.   
> So have a bit of Lazarus!Kon because I need some interlude or something before I can even work on thestalkerhermit's prompt.   
> AND let me know how it reads for you. I think I used why too much italics -- and it feels kind of weird because I usually avoid italics and bolding. So, I feel like I killed what I wrote but I don't know...  
> *is dead*

 

                His touches burned,  _scorching_  and  _soaking_  heat into patterned lines of deep purple and mottled green across Tim’s flesh. And Tim loved them, loved them even when the grip was  _just_  too hard or that an artery was being crushed to the point he just ( _it felt so good_ ) might lose a limb. Because Kon was back. Insane. Mad.  _Divine_. From the pit, but always all Tim’s.

                 _And he was his_.

                Tim didn’t try to hide it. That Kon was back. It would have been possible only for a few months because they would know. With their cameras and computers and  _searching_. And it was funny (Tim laughed and laughed about it afterwards), but Jason found out first. He  _wasn’t_  even involved.

                He had punched Tim in the face, sent him sprawling across the cold pavement from the rooftop.

                “You fucking replacement,” he screamed. “Do you know what the hell you just did? Huh, do you?”

                And he pounded Tim, angry, so angry that Tim would do that. Shove a body into the pit.

                Tim allowed him, not resisting because he knew. Knew it when he had to coax Kon from frying Jason to a crisp. Knew it when Jason swore at him, cursing, face  _bloody and raw and hurt_  as they left. And knew it when Kon licked every single injury gained, tongue searing across to mark what was  _his_. Tim knew what he did. He brought Kon back.

                The one that Tim avoided was Dick. Out of stubbornness because all Dick had was a wealth of disappointment. In the lines of his face, the corner of his lips. At every fucking angle. Because he thought Tim would do the right thing. Well, Tim  _did_  do the right thing. He knows he did. He knows it every night Kon clings to him in sleep, suffocating to the point of near asphyxiation, knows it when Kon takes him brutal and unforgiving, knows it when Kon peppers him with biting kisses and leaves  _those lines_ , those burning lines in purple and mottled green.

                Damian didn’t comment. Not after the first time. Was even supportive. And Tim  _almost_  regretted it. That he would have let Kon kill the boy the  _first and only_  time Damian said something.

                As for Bruce? Tim rather not think about it. There were too many feelings there.

                Not when he could think about this. Had to concentrate, focus entirely on Kon.

                Kon’s hands hot and fire razed on skin, his  _aching_  skin. Kon’s growls and the way Kon  _squeezed_  and  _ravaged_  and  _scarred_  so deeply into Tim, into his soul that Tim might never really had his own to begin with.

                And Tim  _loves_  it. The purple, violent and violet, and the green, mottled and molten. Because he knew his desperation  _wasn’t_  in vain.  _His mad divine love_.

                And he was his, so completely it  _hurts_.


	4. His Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude. Probably the shortest out of everything I written for this verse, and maybe more boring or lackluster of the feelings from the first two. Partially based off “Undisclosed Desires” from Muse. And I'll have thestalkerhermit's 50+ Follow Prompt up after this. Two interludes is good enough...

 

                “You’re mine, you know that?”

                Kon’s voice was low, near growling, and Tim didn’t react because it was expected. That Kon would know, and so Tim closed the door quickly, locking it, just in time for the sudden grip, the sudden pull into Kon’s hold.

                “I know,” Tim whispered. And he could feel it, the delicious burn sliding across his skin, anticipating the purples lines and hissing heat that would come. Kon’s hands were in his hair, more petting than stroking or combing. Yet, it was more loving than the two combined.

                His eyes watered at Kon’s fingers, abruptly hard and tugging at his locks, tugging his head back till his neck was bared and vulnerable to Kon’s gaze. He still had Kon’s teeth marks visible there. Then, he felt Kon’s nose, nudging across the skin, and Tim was glad. He wouldn’t need to bring it up.

                “You have his scent on you,” Kon said. “Why?”

                “It’s nothing,” Tim said, but Kon’s lips were curling to a wicked smile, and he brought his mouth to Tim’s ear, nipping. Tim heard the pleased sound in Kon’s throat as he shuddered from the breath, hot and close.

                “I’ll kill him,” Kon breathed, tone dangerous as his tongue slid around the curve of Tim’s ear to take in and bite the fleshy lobe. Tim clenched his fingers on the front of Kon’s shirt, half groaning as TTK whispered dark promises. 

                “Please don’t,” Tim said, more for Kon’s sudden assault to his ear than for him.

                “Don’t what? Do this?” And Tim knew that Kon’s playfulness was still present, that the pit hadn’t dampened it as Kon’s mouth traveled from ear to jaw and lips. It was hard to think, but Tim refused to be distracted.

                “Please. Oh. Don’t kill him.”

                And Kon stopped, lips still hovered above Tim’s. His eyes were dark, and Tim didn’t winced as Kon’s fingers dug in deep at hips for purple and mottled green bruises.

                “Why not?” Kon purred, and Tim had to smile.

                “He is your dad. I’m grateful to him. Because of him, you exist.”

                Yes. Clark didn’t approve. That Tim placed Kon in the pit.

                “But he touched you,” Kon said. “That makes him dead."

\----

[Just to clarify, there's nothing going on between Tim and Clark because I realized that "he touched you" sounds way wrong here. Clark is just pissed about "you brought my son back to life by putting him in the pit? what's wrong with you? blah blah blah", and he and Tim kind of duked it out but Tim is a bat, so he whipped out the kryptonite. I should probably write headcanons for my verses since I never write long enough or can put things in the fic to explain things because it just doesn't fit.]


	5. Mine

               Kon’s touch carded through Tim’s hair, possessive and strong. The sensation was full and heavy despite having no visible form, and Tim didn’t twitch as that touch became harder. That meant Kon was getting closer, and the door swung open with a bang. Tim didn’t jump, kept his eyes focused on the screen in front of him, but his head was being pulled back with TTK till his throat was exposed and vulnerable.

                “You smell like them.” Kon’s growled, and it was hot in his ear. Then, Kon’s actual fingers were sliding into his hair, almost indistinguishable from the TTK. He gripped Tim’s hair tightly, and if Tim didn’t trust Kon—Kon could have snapped his neck before he knew it.

                “I had to see them,” Tim said evenly and felt his pulse jumped as Kon pulled his hair a little.

                “I don’t like it,” Kon declared bluntly, and his mouth was on Tim’s neck, tongue darting out to the leap of pulse there.

                “Yeah, well,” Tim huffed. “Deal with it.”

                It was the wrong thing to say, and even though Tim knew just how much Kon was affected by the Lazarus, he still hadn’t entirely calculated what would set him off.

                “I will,” Kon said and bit several bruising marks across his neck and shoulder. “You’re mine.”

                And Tim did take responsibility for what he did. It was better than Kon being dead.

                “Yes,” Tim agreed, and the TTK burned, scorching and soaking heat into his skin. “Yours.”

                Kon thumbed his nipples, having unzipped his costume. Tim groaned and winced slightly as Kon pinched hard.

                “K-kon,” Tim gasped, and Kon didn’t ease up, pinching harder before he released the nub.

                “I want to know where you’re going.” Kon’s hand snaked downward and squeezed him hard. “With who and why.”

                And Kon jerked Tim hard, strokes short and fast. The friction burned in tandem with Kon’s TTK. Kon was everywhere at once, on every inch. Marking, searching, _embedding_  himself into Tim’s flesh. Tim opened his mouth to object, but all that came out with a drawn out moan.

                “I don’t care if it’s undercover, Tim. I want to know.”And Kon was still jerking him off. Still jerking and crowding out every other thought in Tim’s head. “I hate it when you smell like them.”

                Kon pulled at him, brought him close to the edge.

                “You’re mine, and no one else’s.” And Kon kissed him roughly, taking in Tim’s cries and the shudder of his body as he came.


	6. Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because there was a child they never knew they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thestalkerhermit who was okay with me combining her prompt into Lazarus!Kon. I feel a little guilty, bad—perverse for introducing a child to this verse. Because Kon and Tim are pretty messed up, and…Forgive me. OAO"

 

                A child. A small, extremely small to be practically tiny, child was following him. Trailing him on patrol.  _When Kon was with him_. And Tim wasn’t sure what to do. Because that wasn’t a good thing. To have a kid following him. With Kon present. He could ignore the child but that would be heartless. Not to mention, something sparked within Tim’s chest. To know that this child was performing a repetition of what he had done all those years ago with Batman. It was flattering.

                So in one easy swing, Tim brought himself to land near the child. With a soft swish so the child wouldn’t be frightened. But the child wasn’t frightened. Instead, the boy was smiling. Smiling at him.

                “Mommy,” The boy said, and Tim had to stare. At the messy black hair, the blue eyes and  _just_  how much the child looked like Kon. And Tim continued to stare, unable to breathe, head reeling, spinning and whirling. Because that child was—

               And Tim threw himself on the boy,  _shielding, protecting_ , charred skin scenting the air as Kon let out a terrifying wail. At his injury. By Kon’s eyes.

                “I’m okay,” Tim heard himself said. He really was. Burnt skin could always be fixed. But the child? That couldn’t be so easily fixed, and he looked down at the child. So sweet, chubby cheeks and small. His child.  _Their child_. And he might have fallen if he wasn’t down on the ground already.

                The boy pressed himself against Tim, nuzzling his face in Tim’s chest.

                “Mommy,” the boy said again in a happy whisper. Then Kon landed near them, cracking the pavement, eyeing the child.

                “If he hurts you…”

                And Tim realized what it looked like. That the child was like a miniature of Superboy Prime.

                “No, he didn’t,” he said, and he clutched the child closer in his arms. Afraid. Of the red in the eyes and the child in his arms. More afraid that Kon would leave, that his possessiveness would evaporate as soon as he knew.

                But Tim  _looked_ , and it was Kon that was afraid. That Tim didn’t want him anymore.

                “Is he my replacement?” Kon asked. And the question grew and swell but Tim popped it easily.

                “I want you, Kon. I couldn’t replace you. That’s why I put you in the pit.”

                He picked up the child, cradling him in his arm, the one that wasn’t burnt. Slowly, cautiously, carefully, he stepped up to Kon. He shifted the child in his arm, for Kon to see. Then, “look. This is ours—do you understand that? Ours?”

                And Kon stared too. For a long time. Silent. Studied the child from head to toe. The messy black hair and eyes like Kon. The boy too much a reminder of Superboy Prime.

                “Ours?” Kon repeated. He reached out with an unsteady hand to touch the kid but dropped it. Shy and scared. The kid smiled, such a darling smile, and Tim could feel their child’s TTK reaching out, spreading to meet Kon’s.

                Kon’s eyes widened but his TTK easily wrapped around them both, embracing in a phantom way, and the child’s TTK surged in response, smaller and weaker, but surging all the same to do the same.

                “Ours,” Tim affirmed, voice strangled in his throat. At the presentation. At the feeling of being enclosed within two TTK fields. “I—I didn’t know. Before the pit, I tried—“

                And the sweet child, their sweet child interrupted.

                “Mommy made me, daddy.”


	7. Imperfect

Their child was asleep, laid to rest and slumber with both parents acknowledged. Soothed by the fact that Tim and Kon didn’t reject him and he had a home. But there were still some things unaddressed between Tim and Kon.

Tim closed the door quietly, and they walked away from the guest room. It would be the child’s room now. Kon was frighteningly silent as they traveled the short distance to their own room. It was almost a relief when their door closed and Kon pressed him against the wood of the door.

“Tim,” Kon said, and it was almost desperate. Tim’s forehead fell forward to rest on Kon’s shoulder. He was tired and his arm and upper back ached where Kon had burnt through skin and kelvar.

“I didn’t know,” Tim said in response to Kon’s silent question. “I thought it wasn’t possible. Mules and ligers, you know.”

He laughed a little and the sound was hard and cold. How could he have known that it would work? He just tried because he missed and longed and—he would need to go back and see how their child was created.

Kon pressed him harder against the door. That wasn’t his question.

“If you knew about him, would you still have thrown me into the pit?”

“Yes,” and Tim inhaled sharply. At how easy it was to admit that. At how easy it was to say he would. No one could replace Kon.

Then Kon was reaching a hand up, TTK probing gently at the burn on the back of Tim’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” Kon said, mournful at the angry red and charred scent. Tim pulled back, lifting his head and meeting Kon’s eyes.

“Don’t be,” and Tim kissed him. Kissed him and wanted bruises violent and hard. To have purple and green line his skin.

“It’s not your fault, Kon,” Tim murmured quietly against those heated lips, letting Kryptonian ears catch them. “It’s mine for putting you in the pit. For creating a child.”

The hand on his hip tightened at that. Tim wished it was more forceful. It would have been deserved.

“I’m not who I used to be. I can barely think right,” Kon said in a low voice.

“I know,” Tim said. He knew because he saw it. How hard it was for Kon to focus. To not be so angry and—

“I’m jealous,” Kon said. “Even with our kid. I was—am jealous of our kid.”

He cupped Tim hard, pressure increased even against the jock cup. Tim groaned and pushed his hips into Kon’s.

“That isn’t right,” Kon continued. “I know it isn’t.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Tim said and pulled Kon’s face down. He kissed him again, a hum of delight in his throat.

“Your burns,” Kon choked out as Tim kissed down his jaw. “We should treat them first.”

“They can wait.” Tim’s hands edged underneath Kon’s shirt. “I just want to feel you. Know you’re really here.”

Nothing was perfect. Kon was mad. They had a child and Tim was screwed up. But Tim had them both. It was more than good enough. That made him smile as Kon walked them to bed.

He would do it all again if he had to.


End file.
